As he stepped off the jet and onto the tarmac, his phone buzzed.
His sister was calling.
“Jake,” she said as soon as he answered. “Are you back?”
“Obviously, I just answered the phone. Doesn’t ring in the sky, Kate.”
He could practically see her roll her eyes. “Ha ha ha. Don’t get too comfy. We have another job.”
He groaned. Sure, he was grateful for the work. But a little downtime before he caught another flight would be nice.
“This is easy. All you have to do is find a guy who’s barely trying to hide.”
But nothing was ever easy. “Tell me more about the job.”
“It includes one of your favorite things ever.”
“A day on the boat? Season tickets to the Marlins? A cold beer and barbecue?”
“Try beaches full of hot women in bikinis all day long.”
More like his greatest temptation.
CHAPTER TWO
A school of fish so blue they shimmered like jewels swam past her, stirring up the crystal-clear water with dainty little ripples. One of the fish darted so close that its fins brushed against Steph’s leg, making her laugh silently. With the regulator in her mouth, she turned to her brother and waved to the underwater camera he held.
The Miami sun from high above them was like a faint spotlight, offering flickers of bright little rays off the coast of South Beach. Steph resumed her path through the sunset-pink reef, darting by plants that danced and swayed in the sea, tranquil and gorgeously silent.
She kicked her legs and swam alongside the blue tang fish as they cut past the living rock. Their scales glittered like sapphires. Breathing in through the regulator, she bobbed near the fish, enjoying the calm sensation of being at one with the natural world. Playing in it. But leaving it as it was.
Perfect advertisement for her business . . . which still needed the help.
About the only thing that would sell better than fish would be if she found a pirate’s buried treasure beneath the sea. She imagined uncovering a rusty old wooden box, bursting with hidden gems. Once upon a time, she’d dreamed of uncovering such a find in the sea. Hunting through shipwrecks in search of long-lost gold. Absently, she fingered the chain around her neck with its mini treasure chest on it.
As she skimmed near the sandy bottom of this shallow ledge, a dazzling pair of purple parrot fish shot past her, racing into an underground cavern too narrow for humans. Her eyes lit up, and her excitement was surely visible as she glanced back at the camera pointing to the neon fish, one of the most coveted sights on a dive.
They were, quite simply, stunning.
The ocean’s true treasure chest—the beautiful creatures that called it home. After the parrot fish disappeared in the cavern, her work was done. She made a circular sign with her hand. It’s a wrap.
Soon she and her brother, Robert, shot up through the water. The moment of reentry was always thrilling, shifting from surviving underwater for thirty minutes to breathing that fabulous concoction known as air.
As she broke the surface, it was as if hearing had been restored. A pelican squawked as it soared from out of nowhere and dipped into the ocean, hunting for fish. The gentle sound of waves pulsing toward the shore landed on her ears. The sun beat down, and the world was bright again, replacing the dark serenity of the underwater realm. Steph adored both worlds—the air and the sea, loving that she could live in one and at least exist in the other, thanks to all this awesome gear.
Robert surfaced next, tugged off his mask, and gave a thumbs-up.
“Great footage,” he said. “The parrot fish rocked it.”
“Thanks. I rehearsed them in advance.”
“Excellent. You’ve got them on payroll now?”
She swam to the boat, shouting, “Yup. Blue tang and parrot fish do my bidding. Dolphins next. They drive a harder bargain, but they’ll be jumping above the water later, like Flipper. I promised them tuna,” she said in a pretend whisper.
“Just let me know when their call time is and I’ll be here, Ariel.”
She laughed as he used her childhood nickname, the one her mom had bestowed on her on an island vacation long ago. The one she gave to her business when she changed its name last year. Because she had to.
Steph reached for a hand at the edge of the boat. Locking fingers with Lance, her longtime friend who ran day fishing tours, she hoisted herself onto the vessel. Robert followed. Never leave a private boat alone or unmoored while diving. You might become shark bait or just have to swim for a really long time to land. Steph was a water girl through and through, but neither option sounded appealing, especially the one that involved becoming lunch, so Lance had manned the boat as they filmed underwater videos to advertise Ariel’s Island Eco-Adventure Tours. All part of the rebuilding process, and she was grateful to have their help. They quickly removed their dive gear and stowed it away. Robert, a professional photographer, set down his camera.
“Get what you wanted?” Lance asked. He held up a hand and flashed his sparkling grin that made his smile catnip for many women. “Wait. That was a dumb question. You always get what you want.”
“Hardly,” Steph said with a scoff because she worked her butt off for everything she had.
“Let me amend that. The new Steph gets what she wants”—he pointed at her—“because she takes no prisoners.”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s the new me. Merciless,” she said, adopting a tough glower.
“More like determined,” Robert weighed in. As Lance turned the key in the ignition, they sped toward land, the skyline of South Beach in their crosshairs.